They are...
A smile crept onto David's lips.
But the two women beside him suddenly froze, their pupils momentarily losing their original color—then returning.
"Caelan..."
The queen—now the mother of David's new body—looked different from before.
"I hope you're not having too much trouble now that you're a leader..."
Her face softened, free from the doubt it once held.
"Brother... I hope you become a great king, and don't let those old-fashioned advisors get in your way."
Velia—Caelan's little sister—sounded unusually snide.
Their gestures had shifted.
No surprise. No confusion.
Just calm, practiced elegance.
David gave a slight nod. "Of course... I'll try to be a good king," he said with a cheerful tone.
What the hell am I thinking? There's no way they transmigrated too... right? he wondered.
The nervousness that once clung to the two women was gone—replaced by gentle mannerisms that felt alien to David.
But it helped. It let him slip more easily into the role of 'Caelan'—just in time for the afternoon speech.
He excused himself, saying he wanted to return to his room.
A strange shift... but maybe I'm just seeing them through different eyes than the real Caelan would, he mused as he walked.
He rather enjoyed the way servants paused their work and bowed the moment he passed by.
Eventually, he arrived at the doors to his room.
"Never thought I'd find paradise after getting stabbed by that idiot," he muttered under his breath while opening the door.
Whatever. Better revise my speech.
He grinned, stepping inside, reaching again for that luxurious feathered quill and fine parchment.
Now, no more struggle. No more gambling with my life just to steer things behind the scenes.
This time… everyone will hear my voice. Every. Last. One of them...
He grinned wider.
He picked up a sheet of parchment, only to cross it out again and again—each time crumpling it and tossing it aside.
"I get it now… this kingdom's problems… they're so similar to how my country used to be,"
His fingers danced across the paper once more, channeling the euphoric rush of ideas straight from his mind.
He was completely absorbed.
Time meant nothing.
All that mattered was how to grip the hearts of his people with the speech he was crafting.
The sun rose.
Noon came and went.
David stared at three sheets—each one a product of relentless edits and rewording.
This one...
He picked the third.
"Perfect, they—"
He cut himself off, grabbing the feather quill again and scribbling one final line at the bottom:
"Needs a touch of exclusivity!"
Knock...
A knock echoed from the door.
David flinched.
He'd gone too deep into his flow state.
Quickly, he cleaned up the scattered mess of failed drafts—shoving the wrinkled ones into the right drawer, and neatly stacking the three shortlisted versions on the left, placing the third sheet on top.
He opened the door.
The same elderly servant from that morning stood before him, bowing low.
"Your Majesty, this evening—once the sunlight begins to wane—the nobles, commoners, and slaves will gather before the palace, just as you commanded."
"Good. Make sure no one is left out." David's voice was firm.
This little kingdom can't keep playing the pawn in every damn conflict, he thought.
The servant bowed silently.
David studied him.
A loyal servant. Deeply respected by the former owner of this body.
Gregor, he recalled.
"Gregor," David called out.
"Yes, Your Majesty?"
"What is your hope for our little kingdom of Gravemarch?" David asked.
"U-Uh…" Gregor hesitated, visibly nervous.
"No need to hold back, Gregor."
David mimicked Caelan's warm smile.
"I respect you deeply. Who knows—maybe with my position now, I can make that dream of yours come true."
Gregor's eyes welled up.
"Your Majesty, as a humble servant, all I wish for… is for the people to be free. For slavery to end. I can't bear to see men with chains around their necks, working without pay, stripped of freedom."
"Is that so?"
David smiled.
"We'll make it happen, Gregor."
Gregor blinked, startled.
Instinctively, he looked up at the king before him—still smiling gently.
"W-We will?" Gregor stammered.
"Of course."
David placed a hand on Gregor's shoulder.
"Now go on—get back to work. I'll do my best. That's a promise."
Gregor flinched slightly, then bowed once more and took his leave.
As the sound of the king's door closed behind him, he glanced back.
"You're still Caelan… no... I understand now. You are the king now. King Caelan."
Gregor smiled—and walked away.